


The Verdict

by Posarmeklen



Category: Monkey Dust (Cartoon)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Homophobia, Humor, Implied Slash, Mpreg, Test Results
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Posarmeklen/pseuds/Posarmeklen
Summary: A spiteful, shamefaced Paedofinder General is informed that he will "imprison a naked child in his stomach for nine months".





	The Verdict

Dr. Dickson had just shut the door behind his most formidable patient. The men sat opposite one another in the plain, sterile examination room, and the patient's stringy black tresses streamed limply out from under his hat, down his back, and onto the tip of the chair.

His results were embarrassing at best. If the way in which he reacted to most anything was an indicator, he wouldn't take this kindly.

"Well, General, it looks like you're going to be a parent," Dr. Dickson broached conversation.

The Paedofinder General's near-fluorescent eyes widened a couple sizes, spreading themselves over the visible area of his smooth black mask, and he turned his long, drawn face sideways. "How so?" he asked skeptically.

"You're pregnant," came the blunt response.

The executioner furrowed his brow as if someone had just insulted his character. "No, I'm not!" he stated. He may as well have been refuting a non-negotiable falsehood about himself. The doctor frowned at his blatant defense mechanism.

"...You are," Dr. Dickson confirmed, hesitantly looking him over for signs of impending violence.

Here it was. The Paedofinder General stood up from his seat like a shot, cape billowing out slightly behind him from the motion. "I'm not _pregnant_!" he thundered, showcasing the full sonorous intensity of his voice. He scowled. "Only a pervert would grow a child in their nether regions." He punctuated his claim with a vague open-handed gesture near his pelvis.

Dr. Dickson had an idea as to what he was thinking. "Frankly, I don't know what to tell you," he responded amiably. "But a man who is pregnant isn't a pervert because he partook in homoerotic relations. Usually. Not always."

The Paedofinder General released a horrified gasp, glaring wrathfully at his physician. "Oh!" he yelled sharply. The tall grey-clad figure swung his body away abruptly and pointed one of his skeletal fingers, at the end of which was a dagger-like fingernail. "So now you're accusing me of being a faggot." As he continued to speak, his voice faltered slightly. "And how would _you_ know, anyhow?" His tone was condemnatory.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," replied Dr. Dickson. Funny how he felt like he was the one being held under the microscope. "Your test results speak for themselves. You're certainly something special, but I don't think you're the next Virgin Mary. Er, Virgin Marty." He smiled wryly.

The General had ducked his head by now. Wordless, he gritted his teeth and cast yellowish eyes upward to meet the doctor's from under the wide brim of his hat. Unlike him, it was. His imposing appearance only poorly hid that he looked breakable. Exposed. He was fucked, literally and figuratively, and he knew it.

"Now, now, it's nothing to be ashamed of." Dr. Dickson put on a more reassuring voice. "This probably isn't what you wanted to hear...I know that I'm a bit surprised myself." An expression of utter displeasure contorted the Paedofinder General's features. The doctor decided not to vocalize his own shock further and asked him a question instead. "I take it you weren't trying to have a child?"

"Of course not," the Paedofinder General answered simply. He retired back down to his seat, smoothing the front of his robe hanging loosely over where his mistake was incubating.

"I see...did you not use protection?"

"If you had seen the size of it," scoffed the Paedofinder General in a bitter retort, "you too wouldn't have thought there was anything to protect against."

Dr. Dickson nearly choked at his lewd remark. "Don't feel pressured to divulge the intimate details!" he pleaded. At the same time, his unprofessional curiosity was piqued. The vigilante's body clock had apparently not stopped ticking despite the doctor's estimate that he was approaching fifty years old, and he was an ever outspoken proponent of the "all gays are paedophiles" doctrine. Many a noose had been tied and iron maiden had been shut on those grounds. Was the Paedofinder General a closeted homosexual? Perhaps the long hairstyle and flowing apparel explained matters, or at least hinted at them. Still, who was the fertile culprit? For the General's sake, he hoped that the circumstance was no more nefarious than a sordid affair. "I just care that you're pregnant. Let's put together an antenatal care plan. Shall we?" He clasped his hands.

"Only if you're quick with it. I must leave." The Paedofinder General inched forward in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared past the doctor's face. "And I haven't fallen prey to your deception."

Dr. Dickson raised his eyebrows worriedly. "What would that be?"

"I don't believe what you're telling me about my being pregnant." He spat out the words resentfully. "And I don't wish to discuss such obscene things. Save it for someone else."

The doctor rose and swallowed. The Paedofinder General rejected the physical mechanics of reproduction. Feticide - he was no stranger to it. And the process was underway in his body as they spoke. It was out of his control. Dr. Dickson still hoped he hadn't offended him. He walked around and tentatively placed his hands on the back of the patient's chair. "You need to be taking proper care of yourself now, General. Self-preservation should be your highest priority," he called while grabbing his notes out from his desk. "For you and the child. And for the greater good. You are a paragon of justice in this nation." He met the General's eyes. This dubious personal life was one thing. The British paedophiles were only proliferating.

Dr. Dickson dragged his seat closer to the larger man, so that they were side-by-side, and pencilled something in his book. "Eat a filling but nutritious diet...no alcohol or recreational drugs...no lifting objects heavier than eleven kilograms...certainly none of that jumping or spinning." He squinted, recalling the Paedofinder General putting on a musical recital. "And refrain from torture or execution unless on the grounds of paedophilia. I trust you with that, however."

As the doctor spoke, the Paedofinder General was eerily still, as if his words seeped right through him. His face displayed a flat affect. He turned his head in recognition at the sound of the word "paedophilia", though.

Dr. Dickson flipped back a page. "You are...forty-nine years old," he read.

The Paedofinder General was alarmed. "It's terribly rude that you would assume my age without asking."

"It's on your record," the doctor blinked and explained calmly. "You were born on the sixth of February, nineteen fifty-six. Of course, you hardly look a day over forty-seven."

"And where lies your interest in envisioning a person younger than he is?!"

In a gesture of fear, the doctor left his seat abruptly. "I'm just saying, I will have you know...with age comes a host of risks, in terms of child-bearing. You are healthy, but you must be cautious."

After informing the General of a slew of examinations and procedures, he booked him for a first ultrasound scan. He neglected to tell him just yet where the probe was to be inserted.

"For the road," Dr. Dickson concluded, passing the Paedofinder General a short series of brochures from a drawer. "Some light reading. I have a feeling you'll find these of use." Among the pamphlets were titles such as _Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Lightning Crotch but Were Too Afraid to Ask_ and _Preggy-Pegging: The Pregnant Lover's Kama Sutra_. "And here's one for if you truly feel that carrying a child will offend your sensibilities, General." He forked over a last booklet with the headline _Only the Good Die Young: Abortion Essentials_ , which the killer snatched hastily.

Dr. Dickson pushed the Paedofinder General's chair away once he stood, while the latter fluidly swiped his cape out and wrapped it partially over his front. "Well. Best wishes," the doctor said in a polite tone. His pained, tight-lipped smile received a cold and hollow stare in return. "After you." The directing motion he made with his arm toward the door was rapidly interrupted by the sensation of needle-like objects digging hard into his skin and a vicious slam against the stark white wall.

Shit. The Paedofinder General had him gripped by the wrists and pinned, with his arms bent at a ninety-degree angle. Dr. Dickson's breath hitched. He had never seen the green man's face so close. It was careworn and still rather sickly from the last time they had met. He bared his teeth menacingly and glowered, narrowed eyes blazing. A dangerous flash of silver appeared from within the Paedofinder General's sleeve; he pulled a knife and lined it up with the flesh of the doctor's neck.

The threat elicited a shaky gasp from Dr. Dickson. "Please, let me go!" he begged, eyes bugging. With the General looming over him, he wondered if his brain would get the cue to start rolling the credits. "I've done absolutely nothing!" His voice escalated an octave with each word.

"Swear to me you won't be telling anyone about my _condition_ ," the Paedofinder General demanded, tone low and forbidding.

"I suppose not?!" managed to choke out the doctor desperately.

"Because I promise sincerely," growled the General, edging the knife ever closer to Dr. Dickson's skin, "that if this becomes public knowledge my knife will be acquainted with your neck on an _intimate_ level."

"I assure you, Paedofinder General, I won't say a word," vowed the doctor, fast and unblinking.

After an uncertain moment under the patient's suspicious gaze, Dr. Dickson was freed, his arms at once flopping to his sides like limp noodles.

He breathed in and exhaled shortly. "There is a confidentiality policy. By that rule and my own personal one, unless by your own admission, no one will know you are with child."

The Paedofinder General blanched, and held his hands down in front of him defensively. His expression quickly morphed into that of horrified indignation. "Must you say it like that! Or do you truly imply that I would tolerate an occurrence so illicit? Why am I with this hypothetical child of your scenario? Where do I take him? And why are we so stealthy about our affairs? I am not that sort of monster! I am not a deviant!"

As he protested loudly, his hands begun to shake. Dr. Dickson touched the Paedofinder General's back lightly and nonchalantly steered him toward the exit.

"I do hope you're well in the next few weeks. I'll fill you out a nausea prescription," was Dr. Dickson's frightened response as he turned the doorknob. He patted the Paedofinder General while he led him out. "And remember to ring me if you experience any bleeding." The door banged shut.

The silence of the examination room was striking. Dr. Dickson breathed out slowly, only now observing that his shoulder muscles had been tense for the entirety of the appointment. His arms were traumatized from the General's tight, painful grasp. He had tried not to handle him roughly, considering his circumstance. No one physically challenged the Paedofinder General even on a normal occasion.

The doctor glanced at the wall clock. Ten minutes would pass and the next patient would arrive. As he tucked away his file, he realized that he was unsure of how he should think of the Paedofinder General. For the better part of the year, they would wait and soon his spawn would also be treading the ground they walked; hopefully, thought Dr. Dickson, it wouldn't exit the womb holding a BC-41.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I named his doctor Dr. Dickson. Man gets man pregnant...DICKS ON...oh ha ha, hahahahaha, ahaha, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. That right there, folks, is what we call comedic genius. 
> 
> The quote in the summary is from Monkey Dust series 3 episode 5.


End file.
